


Cold. Wet. Sorry. Please.

by mvernet



Series: Sentinel Thursday Prompt Fics [4]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, M/M, PTSD Blair, Pre-Slash, caring jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 10:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15241185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet
Summary: Originally written fot Live Journal Sentinel Thursday prompt, cold and wet.Blair experiences flashbacks after his near-drowning.





	Cold. Wet. Sorry. Please.

Jim heard the racing heart, shallow breaths and frightened chant of his guide before he even entered the CPD’s lobby. He punched the elevator’s up button five times in succession even though he knew it wouldn’t hurry the damn box along.

As he waited, he focused his hearing on Simon’s office where the all too familiar sounds of Blair having a flashback assaulted his ears. Joel’s voice was soothing, saying nonsense words meant to reassure. Simon was breathing slowly in and out, exaggerating each breath to encourage Blair to imitate him. Jim heard the soft rustle of big helping hands on flannel as both men tried to anchor Blair in the reality of touch. But what really broke Jim’s heart, was the repetition of Blair’s panicked mantra. 

“Cold. Wet. Sorry. Please.”

It had only been a month since Blair died. Drowned at the hand of an insane Sentinel he innocently tried to help. Jim carried the guilt of that time like a ball and chain around his heart, each link in the chain one he had forged himself. Even though Blair forgave Jim and reasoned every cruelty away, Blair’s deepest emotions could not let it go as easily as his scientific mind had.

The flashbacks started after they had all returned from the fiasco at The Temple of the Sentinels. At the Cascade airport, Blair had declined Jim’s invitation to go back to the loft, casually saying he had made other arrangements, and maybe it would be best to let Jim have some of the space he so obviously desired. Blair had entered a cab and was gone before anyone could find out where he was staying.

Jim knew his guide was lying about having somewhere to go, but didn’t want to push Blair further away by confronting him too soon. Later that night, Jim stood staring out the balcony door, sleepless in his desolate home, hopelessly searching between the raindrops for his guide’s precious heartbeat. He gasped when he heard Blair’s actual voice coming from the sidewalk in front of the building.

“Cold. Wet. Sorry. Please.”

Jim had raced outside, barefoot and shirtless. He never felt the freezing rain hit his bare back or the sting of grit beneath his feet. He only heard the utter distress and complete despair in Blair’s voice.

Jim had never seen someone look so pathetic. Blair was shivering without a coat. His hair was soaked and rivulets of water flowed down his neck. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown with a desperate fear gripping his very soul. Blair looked up at the sky, gasping as rainwater made its way into his mouth. He sputtered and blinked away tears mixed with raindrops that stung his eyes.

“Cold. Wet. Sorry. Please.”

Jim remembered enfolding Blair in his arms, his own tears falling, hidden by the storm. He brought his trembling friend upstairs, trying to do his best to change his world from cold and wet to warm and dry. Jim maneuvered the unresponsive man into his own bed and wrapped himself around him. Making a nest for them both to recover in. A safe place were Sentinel and Guide could be as they were supposed to be.

It was Simon who insisted that Jim and Blair seek the help of the CPD psychiatrist. Blair was diagnosed with PTSD manifesting in anxiety and flashbacks. Blair’s episodes seemed to be triggered by water sounds. Heavy rain, dripping faucets, trickling fountains. Jim and Simon were taught how to deal with Blair’s “zone outs”. The irony of the term not lost on the Sentinel and his Captain. The doctor assured Blair that once he was able to deal with his death and all that it entailed, the terrifying flashbacks would ease and given time, stop. Blair refused mood altering drugs and the doctor reluctantly approved his herbal tea blend of St.John’s Wort, Ginseng root and Evening Primrose flowers. Joel kept boxes of the stuff in his desk drawer.

~~~J&B~~~

“Cold. Wet. Sorry. Please.”

“What was it this time, Simon?” Jim asked as soon as he entered the Captain’s office.

Joel was the one who answered as Simon was helping Blair to lay down on the couch. “He had his headphones on. We think it was a song he was listening to. You want me to check?”

“No, I’ll find out later. Thanks Joel. Simon, I got this.” Simon nodded and patted Joel on the back as they left the room, both knowing that what Blair needed was Jim.

Jim grabbed the afghan Simon had brought from home and tucked it around his Guide.

“Cold. Wet. Sorry. Please.”

“No, Chief. Jim’s here now. Warm. Dry.” Jim smiled as he stroked Blair’s curly hair. “Loved.”

Jim didn’t know exactly how he did it, but he let his love for his Guide flow through him. It felt like a heated spring bubbling through the earth and pouring life and health into Blair’s mind. Blair reacted immediately. His breathing evened out. His eyes came back into focus.

“Ohhhh, man. Not another one. Jim, I had my CD player on. I felt like listening to some Chicago.”

“Chicago, Chief?” Jim smiled as he monitored his friend’s heartbeat. 

“Yeah. Wishing You Were Here, came on.” Blair glanced sheepishly at Jim to see if he caught the meaning of his song choice. Jim tried to hide a smirk.

“So that song starts with the sound of a storm. I closed my eyes and I was back at the fountain. This is ridiculous. When is it gonna end?”

Jim sighed and wiped the few escaped tears from Blair’s now lucid eyes with his thumb, slowly rubbing his cheek to give comfort. “I don’t know, Blair. But we’ve forgiven each other. I guess we need to dig deeper and forgive ourselves. You always say you’re sorry, Blair. It kills me everytime.”

“I think I’m still sorry for losing your trust.”

“I was so screwed up, I wouldn’t have trusted Santa Claus with a sled.”

Jim was glad to see a small smile on his partner’s face. He was coming out of this flashback splendidly. Much better than the other times where Jim had to take him home to the loft and stay with him while he rocked and shivered, convinced he was cold and wet, when in reality he was wrapped in his Sentinel's loving arms. 

A sudden frown appeared on Blair’s face. “I… I guess I’m sorry that I hated you. Because I did Jim, for a little while after you and Alex…”

“I deserved that hatred and anger, Blair. That’s what I’m so sorry about. No matter how well you explain it away. I hurt you. You. The most important person in my life.”

The smile was back in spades. “I am? The most important?”

Jim shook his head. “For a smart guy, Darwin…”

“Jim?” Blair interrupted. “I’m hungry. Want to buy the most important person in your life a sub?”

Jim helped his partner sit up. His breathing was even and his eyes glowing with an inner light that had come so close to being snuffed out. Jim swallowed hard before answering, “I’ll even make it a footlong, Chief.”


End file.
